


Lordy, Lordy, Won't Live Til Forty

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also he goes by Heracles, Because Harry isn't intimidating okay?, Cheeky Harry, Flirting, Grey Lord Harry Potter, Harry is Lord Peverell, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a Lord-level wizard back in Europe after traveling the globe for his entire life and building a massive web of contacts and getting several of the Ministers elected and being a bad-ass that everyone wants a piece of so basically he can be a weird little shit and people can’t say a word.</p><p>Voldemort isn't really cool with this code. But, you know, politics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lordy, Lordy, Won't Live Til Forty

He sketched out a brief, mocking bow and presumptuously pressed a kiss to the Lord’s hand, smiling disarmingly when faced with the disbelieving and gobsmacked expressions of most all Voldemort’s surrounding followers.

“Lord Heracles, at your service,” he said, all smooth charm and poise and - he frowned, brows furrowing thoughtfully, then shook his head, murmuring, “Oh, wait, no, bullocks, that sounds like I’m pledging myself or some nonsense. Hmm… how about - Pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord - ah, wait, no, no, much too subservient. Let me thiiiiink… hmmmn… augh, this sucks, I knew I should’ve just gone with “Salutations” and risked looking like a huge nerd. Seeev, they’re looking at me like I’m a huge nerd (and oh, I knew you’d have no sympathy, where _is_ sweet Bartemis?). But, really, how am I _supposed_ to greet the murderer of my parents? It isn’t really like, “Hey, Merlin, such an honor!”, except it is at the same time because, well, he’s quite the author and theorist, isn’t he?"

He turned his attention from the dour, sneering man back to the straight-faced Voldemort and thoughtfully nibbled his bottom lip, eyes moving to trace the mans disconcerted, pulsating aura. He hummed briefly, then gave him a curt once over, eyes lingering on his clawed hands and bare feet - (and wasn’t that just the most bizarre thing ever?) - before he nodded firmly and stretching out a hand, a wide, genuine smile stretching his face and brightening verdant eyes.

“Well, your magic really is quite beautiful, and your allegedly brilliant mind is at least mostly intact unless all your scholarly works were pre-made in bulk, so I’ll just go with nice to meet you, and hope you don’t turn out to be nearly as big of a dick as I’ve heard.”

And his stupidly charming dimpled smile broadened, as if he hadn’t just insulted one of the most powerful men in all of Europe. Had they not been at a public function where Voldemort could easily lose allies by toeing the line as Potter - or Peverell, or whatever the brat was going by - was, the child might well be writhing on the ground for sheer impudence.

As Voldemort (unsuccessfully) attempted to reconcile the image of an incoherently babbling, infantile Harry Potter with the poised, charismatic man before him, Lord Heracles was cheerily engaging the notoriously disdainful Lord Byron, the most powerful vampire on the continent. He flowed smooth through the motions of conversation, animatedly using and discarding dozens of inflections and bestowing seemingly thoughtless touches. In a mere minute he had successfully coaxed a smile from the undead, quickly succeeded by a low, rumbling laugh that halted all conversation in the room.

Potter seemed not notice, smile sly as he leaned in to murmur something into the Lord’s ear. The vampire snorted, _snorted!_ , in response before shooting a sharp look to the guests.

The conversation clamored on.

* * *

“Such scandalous, scintillating slander!” Harry mock-gasped, dramatically swooning with one hand fanning him and the other fluttering over his heart. His grin was barbed and shark-like, eyes alight with interest as he sidled up to them, leaning a chin on Barty’s shoulder and snaking hands comfortably around his waist. “So who’re we gossiping about like adolescent schoolgirls? And what was that about heavy homoerotica subtext, because, really, I’m in need of a good lay, and dearest Bartemis always rejects my advances.”

Heracles pouted playfully, lightly nuzzling Barty’s neck with his nose, much to the elder’s apparent embarrassment. He pulled away with a chuckle, ruffling his hair fondly.

A throat cleared behind him, and he turned expectantly, grinning unabashedly at the Dark Lord’s discomfited aura. Ah, how nice that he could still get to the man so easily.

“Seducing my followers?” he asked dryly, eyes trailing to the lingering hand rubbing absent circles into Barty’s hip.

Heracles smiled innocently, releasing Barty from his hold and spinning into the Dark Lord’s personal bubble, winding an arm around and pulling him close until he was inches from the man's ear.

“ _Jealous_?” he teased audaciously, stealing forward to press a kiss to the man’s cheek. He heard several strangled gasps and peripherally spotted Barty paling dramatically, but paid them no mind, dancing away from the frozen Dark Lord before the man decided to unleash his sizable ire and tarnish their alliance in a temper. Then again, he _was_ pressing Voldemort a bit - okay, _a lot_ , certainly much more than any before him, but there was something about the man that just made him want to _tease_ and _poke_ and _fluster_ , and he had never been all too great at resisting temptation. At least he’d had the mind to speak in parseltongue - it added to the shock effect, leaving him to make a clean getaway.

* * *

Heracles whistled cheerfully as he strolled through the orchard, absently braiding his hair into an updo to get it out of the way for any impending duels to the death. Garnet eyes scrutinized him, aptly tracking every graceful, flowing movement.

Voldemort was fascinated by this child, bold and utterly unafraid of him, eager to push and prod and tease in a way nobody had ever dared and he wasn’t sure he appreciated. The boy was foolish - he _humanized_ him - but oh, what a strange, captivating creature he made. Granted, he had took a large step over several boundaries by kissing him without permission, but Voldemort couldn’t exactly _punish_ him. Then again, he couldn’t let him get away with it, either. . . and he was a _parselmouth_.

Either the Potter’s somehow descended from Salazar (they didn’t!) or… Voldemort didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility.

The boy spun suddenly, meeting the Dark Lord’s gaze and bestowing him with a boyish wink. A wink! Gods, but he was an audacious brat...

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's _something._ I'm just not sure what, yet.


End file.
